


This is My Christmas Shirt

by verfound



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Christmas, Endgame Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, F/M, LBSC Sprint Fic Challenge, LBSC sprint challenge, Lovebugs & Snakecharmers, Prompt Fic, Quarantine, Sprint Fic, anti-christmas, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27789643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verfound/pseuds/verfound
Summary: It’s not even November, and Marinette Dupain-Cheng is 5,000% over Christmas already.  Her dad, who has always loved Christmas, is going harder than ever.
Relationships: Luka Couffaine/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 6
Kudos: 57
Collections: LBSCSprintFicChallenge





	This is My Christmas Shirt

**Author's Note:**

> So this was written for the 11/25-12/2 LBSC Sprint Challenge, using the prompt “IF I HEAR ONE MORE DAMN CHRISTMAS SONG BEFORE DECEMBER I’M GONNA –”, because it kinda hit me on a spiritual level? I just…have nothing left for Christmas this year, y’all. For various reasons, I was over Christmas by September. And the sketch was easy enough, but the fic I restarted three times because I kept trying to write a Christmas fic and it just…wasn’t writing. Everything felt forced and contrived. So I just kinda ran with the idea of Quarantine, Tom going hard on Christmas because “Christmas is magic it will fix everything”, Mari not buying it, and just…let it flow? So it’s kinda angsty? Kinda defeated? I don’t even know. xD (Also it needed wrapping up, so there’s probably about another sprint’s worth of words tacked on.)
> 
> Just a reminder: LBSC Sprint Fic Challenge Guidelines: Three 15-minute sprints to write the fic. 24 hours to edit/post. (Come say hi! Join us in the challenge! It’s a great group full of cheerleading and spitballing and zaniness!) We also opened it up to a “Sprint Sketch Challenge”, where you have the same basic 45m to get a drawing done and 24h to finish it up (whatever “finish” means to you). What that ended up being for me was a sketch/lines in the 45m and then some quick shades in about an hour after.

“…oh my God.”

Marinette looked up at the familiar – if startled – voice, her eyebrows lifting as she pursed her lips to better hold the pencil she’d been balancing beneath her nose. Luka might have laughed if he’d bothered looking at her. As it was, his attention was a little… _captivated_ by the crap around her.

…that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t _crap_. Not really. Any other year she’d love the idea and be over the moon right now. Probably.

But this hadn’t been a normal year, and when her dad had come up with the _brilliant_ idea of pulling out all the Christmas decorations and dressing up the shop the first week of November (which was just the latest in a long line of Christmas-themed insanity that had struck him during Quarantine), she hadn’t met the idea with her usual enthusiasm. She hadn’t been enthusiastic about it at all, honestly.

…she just…wasn’t feeling very Christmas-y. Not this year.

“Darning…” Luka laughed, his head still swiveling as he tried to take everything in: the tinseled garland, the lights, the bells, the massive tree, the mistletoe her dad had hung over the entrance to the back… “…don’t you think this is a little…oh my God.”

His eyes finally landed on her, and they bugged in…she was choosing to think _delight_ , not horror. Maybe a little bafflement. Bemused wonder. She couldn’t see his mouth thanks to the facemask, but she was pretty sure from the way his eyes were squinting he was grinning stupidly at her.

“If you say _anything_ ,” she warned, dropping her pencil into her hand and leveling it at him like a knife, “I will get Papa’s rolling pin and beat you with it. The big one.”

“You look _wonderful_ ,” he said. She snorted and pulled her own facemask out of her pocket, slipping it on now that he was here. His eyes crinkled even more when he saw the holiday print on her mask. She didn’t think she looked _wonderful_. She thought she looked just like the rest of the bakery: like Christmas had thrown up on her. “The bakery looks wonderful. I am _very_ impressed. I can’t believe you guys got all this up overnight.”

“Never underestimate the enthusiasm and ability of one Tom Dupain,” Marinette muttered dryly. “ _Especially_ when Christmas is involved.”

Luka didn’t look like he was smiling anymore.

“Hey,” he said, walking over to the counter and automatically reaching out for her. He hesitated, his hand hovering awkwardly between them, as he glanced over her shoulder into the back. She pushed out a heavy breath, somewhere between a sigh and a groan, and grabbed his hand. His eyes were crinkly again as she placed his palm against her cheek and leaned into him. “You look _miserable_.”

“…I’m trying not to,” she sighed, squeezing his hand before releasing it. He lingered a moment longer than he would have if her parents had been present.

She was pretty sure they were still taking their lunch upstairs, which was why she was manning the counter. Because Luka was the only one technically allowed in the bakery, because he’d been running deliveries for them the past few months, but they still had customers picking up at the door, too. Someone had to mind the shop, and she normally didn’t mind giving her parents the break.

“Talk to me,” he said softly, pulling her out of her thoughts. Her gaze dropped to the counter between them and landed on the cheery little snowman holding up a _welcome_ sign that usually wouldn’t be out for another two weeks at least. She looked back up at him, trying to focus on the steady blue of his eyes instead of the twinkling blue of the lights behind him.

“…I think I hate Christmas,” she said, her voice hushed like it was some kind of treasonous secret. If her dad had been near enough to hear, it would have been. Luka’s eyebrows rose in surprise at that, and her head dropped as a strangled little groan escaped her. Her breath caught, and she felt a tremor shake through her body the same time she realized her eyes were starting to burn. Luka moved around the counter without a word, and by the time the first tears fell he had pulled her against his chest. Her hands fisted in his shirt as she cried, curling closer to him.

“Hey, hey, it’s ok,” he soothed, rubbing his hand against her back. She shook her head, but she was crying too hard to speak. “It’s ok. It’s ok.”

“I-it’s not,” she gasped, and it _sucked_. He was holding her for the first time in _months_ , and she was too upset to properly enjoy it! How was that even fair? And because of something stupid like… “I don’t hate Christmas! Oh my God, I’m a horrible person! How can I say that?”

“You’re not horrible,” he said with a kind chuckle, his hand reaching up to squeeze her shoulder before returning to her back. “You’re not the only one who hates Christmas this year.”

“I know Santa, Luka – you’re not allowed to hate Christmas when you know Santa!” she whined.

“Er…” he grunted, and she thumped her fist against his chest.

“Shut up,” she grumbled. “I know Santa.”

“…y’know, I believe you,” he said with a dazed little chuckle. “You know Santa. That’s not the weirdest thing you’ve told me.”

“Papa _loves_ Christmas,” she said. Now that the initial burst had passed and she felt like she could breathe again, the words were finally coming. She lifted her head from his chest and looked over Luka’s shoulder, where the bakery…still looked like Christmas had thrown up over it. And she _hated_ it, but her dad had been _so happy_ putting it all up the night before… “Even during a normal year, he _loves_ Christmas. I don’t think you understand how much he loves Christmas. Those Hallmark movies where you have the quirky guy who you think is kinda normal but ends up being Santa or Santa’s son or something? And you realize _oh ok he lives at the North Pole this is totally normal for him?_ That would be Papa. Papa should be Santa’s son. He _loves_ Christmas.”

“Ok,” Luka said, nodding. She ducked her face back against his chest, taking a deep breath as much to steady herself as she did just to smell him. He didn’t smell right, though. He smelled like too much disinfectant and soap – like most people smelled anymore.

“And Christmas means _joy_ and _hope_ , and _Christmas makes everything better_ , and he thought…” she trailed off with another groan. He ducked his head towards her, pressing his mouth against her head. If the world was normal, he wouldn’t be wearing a mask and she wouldn’t have a stupid Santa hat on in _the beginning of November_ and she would actually feel his kiss beyond the pressure of his face against her.

“He thought the world could use some hope right now?” he asked softly, and she nodded mutely. “Lot of people thinking that way. _Oh we need a little Christ-_ ”

Her head snapped up with a scream, and he jerked back and stopped singing. She was too annoyed to be glad she hadn’t smashed her head into his nose.

“If I hear _one more damn Christmas song_ before December, Luka Couffaine, I’m gonna –!!!!” she started, and he raised his hands defensively.

“Ok, ok!” he laughed, nodding. “No carols – promise!”

She latched back onto him, taking full advantage of their moment alone to break the usual rules. If her parents came down early she’d just tell them she was upset and he was comforting her. It wasn’t actually a lie.

“I’m just saying…a lot of people have been getting a jump start on Christmas this year,” he said, squeezing her a little. “Wasn’t it actually your arrondissement that strung up Christmas lights for a week back in July?”

“That was all Papa, too,” she sighed. “He thought… _Christmas in July_ , or something. He heard a story about a kid who had cancer and wasn’t supposed to make it to Christmas, so his neighbors all decorated to give him one more Christmas. And Papa thought, because there were so many people who probably wouldn’t make it to Christmas this year…”

“It was pretty cool,” he said, nodding. “Ma even threw up a few extra strings of lights around the boat.”

“It was cool until they started coming down,” Marinette grumbled. Luka frowned at her.

“I thought they came down because they were only supposed to be up for a week?” he asked. She shook her head.

“Three businesses had to close within a week of each other,” she mumbled. “The lights made people happy, until it became like a death march. Papa still has ours up, but Mama at least convinced him to stop turning them on every night.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. She pulled away from him with a sigh, hugging herself and rubbing her hands against her arms to fight her sudden chill. She didn’t look back at Luka, but she could feel him reaching for her again. He wouldn’t force her, though. He’d never been like that. He’d always let her come to him, always mindful of her boundaries and what she thought she wanted.

Always while being exactly what she needed.

“And he normally starts planning the holiday menu in the summer, anyway,” she said, starting to pace. She gestured at the display case across from the register. It was wrapped in bright, golden, tinseled garland, and half the macarons had been removed to make room for holiday cookies. Sugar cookies shaped like snowflakes, gingerbread men, and peppermint macarons. “But _this year_ , because _we need Christmas Spirit, Marinette_ , he starts selling Christmas cookies in September.”

“I wasn’t gonna comment,” Luka said, reaching up to rub his neck. The tips of his cheeks over his mask looked pink. “Your dad makes the best gingerbread in the city.”

She paused in her pacing, and she rushed back towards him for another hug. He relaxed into her, and she felt herself smiling as he rested his cheek on her head. It was enough to chase away the annoyance the constant jingle of the bells on her hat was causing.

“And then, because lights on the outside wasn’t enough, he put the tree up in October,” she said. She felt Luka nod. He remembered the day he came in to find the tree up, but he hadn’t said anything when Marinette had shot him a glare. Tom hadn’t actually decorated it beyond the multicolored lights until…well. The day before, he was pretty sure. He hadn’t noticed any other decorations before then, at least. “And then yesterday he decides the tree isn’t enough, and it’s close enough to Christmas anyway, and _we need Christmas, Marinette!_ We _don’t_ need Christmas, though, Luka! We need…”

She looked up at him with desperate eyes, her hands fisting in his shirt, as she choked a little on her words. She couldn’t say it. They both knew what they needed – what the world needed – and Christmas wasn’t it. He frowned as he smoothed his hands along her arms, trying to get her to relax again.

“I am _so sick_ of Christmas, and it’s not even halfway through November yet!” she said. “And I like Christmas! I’m a maker – I _have_ to like Christmas! I’ve barely touched my Christmas presents this year because every time I think about them – every time I think _oh this is for Christmas_ – I want to punch an akuma!”

“Ok, so you don’t make presents this year,” Luka said, shrugging. “Everyone will understand, Marinette.”

“But I’m a _maker_ , Luka!” she cried. She could hear how crazy she sounded, but she couldn’t stop it. Didn’t he get it? Didn’t he…

“You’re also a teenager in the middle of a global pandemic,” he said, squeezing her arms. He leaned in closer, dipping his head towards her and whispering. “And Paris isn’t the easiest place to live on a good day, with its _bug problem_. You’re under so much stress right now, darning. No one’s going to be mad if you decide to skip Christmas.”

“He’s been watching Christmas movies since _April_ ,” she croaked, shaking her head. “Hallmark played them almost nonstop all summer. He pulled out Mariah Carey in August. I just…”

“You like Christmas, but it’s been shoved at you since April, and you can’t do twelve straight months of it?” he prodded gently.

“It’s _exhausting_ ,” she said. And God, there went the tears again…Luka pulled her back against his chest, holding her close.

“You don’t have to be a superhero, you know,” he whispered, and she choked on a teary laugh. He chuckled and shrugged a little. “You know what I mean. You’re just human, darning. You’re allowed to get tired.”

“I don’t feel like it sometimes,” she whispered. “Papa started playing more Christmas music when we were decorating last night, and he got upset when I wouldn’t sing with him, and we started fighting. I hate that we’re fighting over _Christmas_.”

“It happens,” Luka said. She groaned, pressing her face into his chest.

“He was wearing his Santa suit this morning,” she said. “He usually saves that for charity events and the week of Christmas. Christmas is still a month…oh my God, Luka. It’s still over a month away, and just thinking about it is making my skin crawl, and –”

“So stop thinking about it,” he said. She took a step back, glaring at him as she gestured to herself: the Christmas hat she’d been so proud of the first year she made it (it was Ladybug-spotted with little red jingle bells sewn into the fur trim), the sparkly green bell-studded garland around her wrist and tying her pigtails up, the candy cane-striped mask her dad had bought online (that was _not_ as comfortable as the ones she’d been making since last winter), and the white t-shirt that had _This Is My Christmas Shirt_ emblazoned across the chest. It was the only concession her dad had given her (he had wanted her to wear an elf costume, like her mom).

“ _I’m living with Santa’s long-lost son_ ,” she said bitterly, and Luka tried not to laugh – he honestly did – but his eyes still crinkled in a smile. He held his arms up, gesturing for her to come back to him, but she was pouting, and he wasn’t taking her seriously, and…

“C’mere,” he called softly, and she heaved a longsuffering sigh as she returned to his embrace. “Zoom date tonight? Dingo just got his hands on a copy of the _Animaniacs_ reboot. One hundred percent _not_ Christmas, one hundred percent stupid, and one hundred percent guaranteed to make you laugh.”

“…you and your nineties cartoons,” she grumbled, and he chuckled as he squeezed her.

“Hey, it’s a _reboot_ – but it is a reboot of a classic. They had some pretty next-level humor back in the day,” he said.

“They went off the air five years before you were even born,” she huffed.

“I’m not allowed to appreciate something that came before my time? I wonder what Lucille Ball would say to that,” he hummed. She snorted and jabbed her elbow into his stomach, and he chuckled again as he rubbed his hand along her back. “We can watch something else. Anything except a Christmas movie.”

“That sounds perfect,” she sighed. She tipped her head back, smiling up at him – even if he couldn’t really tell with her mask. She was sure he knew, though. He always knew. “Thank you, Luka. You’re the best, you know that?”

“I think you’re a little biased,” he said, pressing his forehead to her own, “but I appreciate you thinking so. You’re pretty awesome yourself, darning.”

Her dad was only a little upset when she told him she couldn’t watch _Elf_ with him that night. He was less upset when she said it was because she had a Zoom date with Luka.

…they ended up watching _RED_ instead of _Animaniacs_ , and the second one instead of the first (because both were great, but the first one was technically a Christmas movie, and they’d agreed no Christmas movies), and she fell asleep to the glow of her laptop and Luka laughing over something stupid Marvin had said. She was smiling, though, and it was the first honest smile she had worn in days. He fell asleep watching that smile, and when their parents woke them up in the morning they were still grinning like idiots at each other in their sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dcllb5pg9_E


End file.
